Meanwhile
by Yombatable
Summary: America is concerned about the whereabouts of England, and Italy has been ditched by Romano, after some frustration they team up to find out where on earth their brothers are. Engmano with America and Italy being concerned younger brothers.


**(This is a re-upload from AO3, 'cause I have this account so why not use it?)**

**Oh, hi there, I see you've found my fic for this pairing I wish there was more of, hello.**

**Seriously though, I was in an Engmano mood so I wrote Engmano. To quote Selena Gomez, 'The heart wants what it wants'... There isn't actually much Engmano until the end, sorry. I honestly meant to write something completely different but then this shit happened. POV is all over the place and quite honestly I wrote this while high on cough-syrup, so all I can do is hope for the best at this point. Also, I'm sorry if the sex is awkward. IDEK.**

**Enjoy ;)**

* * *

America frowned as he plopped down beside his brother, Canada habitually moving to the side to make room for him as Mexico was being forcibly shuffled down the bench in the other direction with a scowl and a muttered curse in Spanish that America could have easily translated as something along the lines of '_go fuck yourself you self-righteous whore_'had he been paying attention. But he wasn't, so he didn't, saving them both the argument.

"I've been thinking," he said distractedly.

Canada hummed his acknowledgement, raising an eyebrow at the notes he had been reviewing over lunch, "That's a shame, whatever about?"

America ignored the jab, and Mexico's snort, gazing off blankly into space with his chin in his palm and that tiny frown still crinkling the space between his eyebrows. "Don't you think England's been kind of strange lately?"

Canada, still seemingly more interested in his notes, hummed again, "You're going to have to be more specific."

"He leaves right after the meetings, he's really distracted, sometimes he has a weird, goofy grin on his face."

At this, Canada finally deigns to look up at him, a not quite concerned, but not quite anything else look on his face, "Our England? Not your state or something stupid?"

America snorted, "Not, not New England, asshole." He said rolling his eyes, "_The _England, Britain, The _Un-i-ted Blutty Kingdom_, whatever the fuck France always calls him."

"You mean _Rosbif_?"

"No, the other one."

"_Sourcils_?"

"No, his actual name."

"_Angleterre_?"

"That one!"

"You speak fluent French."

"I speak fluent a lot of things, I get mixed up."

Canada rolled his eyes, making an exasperated expression at his notes, which by this point had been abandoned on the table, before turning back to his brother, "You said England was acting weird." He prompted.

America nodded, "Yeah, I think we should tail him after the meeting."

"Why me?" Canada asked, a strange look of something like distaste on his face, "Why don't you get someone else who doesn't already have plans."

"You have plans?"

"Yes, I have plans, is that so unbelievable?"

"With who?"

"Cuba."

America grimaced, "_Cuba_?"

"Yes, we haven't spoken in a while and wanted to catch up." Canada replied tersely, "And I thought you two were working it out?"

America scoffed, "Only 'cause boss-man thinks it would be good for me to improve relations, I think the idea is a load of shit."

"Just like your economy?"

"You know what, Canada, you can go suck a dick." America said, rising from his seat and storming away.

Canada watched him leave for a moment before turning back to the table, briefly spying Mexico, who was bent double and looking as if she were about to have a mild aneurism, "Are you gonna be okay?" he asked a little dryly.

She nodded, giving him the thumbs up and wheezing as if she were about to have an asthma attack.

Canada, satisfied that he hadn't killed the bottom-most North-American Nation, something that would require more than a little paperwork and probably a little manifest destiny revamp as America decided to steal some of her land while she was reviving, honestly, he wouldn't put it past him, settled back to finish his lunch, and pushed America and whatever he thought was going on with England to the back of his mind.

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

England was being dragged none too gently toward the bathrooms on the fourth-floor. Hands and lips already everywhere before they could even make it to their destination.

"Eager, are we?" he asked.

"Shut up, before I change my mind." was the reply.

"You wouldn't, darling," England purred, "We've been apart far too long."

"And you wonder why I'm fucking eager."

* * *

Italy was worried- no, that was the wrong word. Concerned? No...

In truth Italy wasn't entirely sure what exactly it was he was feeling, but whatever it was it didn't settle well in his stomach.

Perhaps it was annoyance, it was probably annoyance. His jerk of a brother was making him miss his lunch, or rather 'spend lunch with him', but it's not like they didn't spend plenty of time together anyway, and he wasn't even here! He could have gone out with Germany and Austria, and sure, he would have had to eat whatever strange, backwater, American-German-cuisine restaurant they could walk to, but it was better than nothing at all.

"Hey, Italy!" called Prussia, trotting over to him.

Italy smiled back at him happily, "Hiya Prussia!"

Prussia threw an arm around Italy's shoulder, "You looked a little lonely, thought I'd invite you to come to lunch with Hungary and I."

Italy briefly marvelled over the fact that Prussia had managed to convince Hungary to spend time with him willingly, but decided to drop it, smiling apologetically at Prussia, "I'm sorry, I've promised to have lunch with Romano, I'm just waiting for him."

Prussia nodded, slapping Italy a little too hard on the back before retreating back toward where hungary could be seen waiting, "That's okay, we'll meet up soon and have an awesome time together, yeah?"

Italy smiled brightly, "Of course!"

"See ya soon!"

Italy waved at him cheerfully, "Bye bye!"

His stomach chose that moment to growl.

He was really hungry.

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

Romano was being pressed up against the cold, tiled wall of the disabled bathroom on the fourth-floor, an eager and skilled tongue inside his mouth and equally eager and skilled fingers roaming under his shirt. His partner chuckled as the tongue left his mouth and trailed down his jaw and neck, the feather-light touches enough to drive even the most sane of men absolutely barmy.

"You're going to be the death of me." He breathed, and Romano smiled, letting the tiniest of moans escape his throat.

He felt a puff of laughter through the upturned lips against his skin as he said, "Promise?"

His partner smiled, bobbing his head in a nod and making a hand motion over his chest, "Cross my heart."

* * *

"I swear to god I'm gonna build a wall." America grumbled as he wandered aimlessly through the halls of the UN building, "A fucking massive one, from Washington to Maine. All the way down the forty-ninth."

"Is there a reason you're threatening to seal yourself off from your brother?" came an amused voice from his side, he didn't need to look up to know it was France.

"H's'd m' econ'my w's a load o' shit." America mumbled a little sheepishly.

"And I suppose at that point you decided to begin plans for a giant wall to keep his mean and nasty comments away from your pretty little ears?" France chuckled, patronization practically dripping from his tone.

"You can go suck a dick too." America ground out.

"I did just this morning," France replied so easily that America choked on his own saliva, "But what goes on between me and other nations' penises are hardly your concern."

"Fuck France! I know that! I wasn't implying- Ew! No!" America shook his head, "Keep your sex-life to yourself, I don't want to think about it."

France rolled his eyes, "I never will forgive England for doing this to you."

"Yeah, yeah," America replied with a grimace, "Cry me a river."

France just rolled his eyes, "It's such a shame."

America perked up a little, ignoring France's comment, a grin coming to his face, "Hey, France?"

"Oui?"

"Do you want to help me trail England after the meeting to find out why he's been so strange and mysterious?"

France looked confused for a moment, but then something seemed to dawn on him and he laughed a little, "Sorry, America, but I have no need, I already know."

"_What_?" America demanded, "What you already know?"

"Sorry, but I'm sworn to secrecy, he'll tell you in his own time." And with that France flitted off to do whatever the smug asshole did, he was probably going to go back to the other nations and have a good laugh about how stupid America was for not knowing, well, you know what, fuck you and your stupid European gossip circle, America can find shit out on his own!

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

Clothes, England had decided, were a significant waste of everybody's time. They just got in the way of more important things, like the flushed and delicious skin of his partner's chest, for example.

"Did you bring it?" asked the person whom he was currently ravishing.

He hummed out a questioning note, making the other choke out an irritated one, "The lube, you bastard, I don't want to wait until later."

England smiled predatorily, "Such a little slut," he purred, sliding his hands into the other's underwear and making him groan happily, "So eager, so impatient."

He wrapped his fingers around his partner and began to stroke, "Mnn, England," he choked, "That's me, just a little whore."

England smirked.

* * *

America had decided that the best way to find out would be to get the answer straight from the horse's mouth, or so to speak.

He had, thus far, failed in finding England however, or anyone who was willing to disclose his location. He was beginning to get a little desperate, he'd already asked everyone who didn't outright hate England, and all he'd gotten were knowing smiles and pats on the shoulder, quite honestly, he wasn't sure what else he could do.

So he decided that the best thing to do was just ask the next closest nation, "Yo! Italy!" he called, waving the slightly confused nation over, "Don't suppose you've seen England around, have ya?"

Italy looked puzzled for a moment, "No, I haven't," he said, "Why?"

America just shrugged, "No one else has, so I thought I'd ask you, but if you don't know, that's cool. See ya around."

Before he could walk away, Italy called him back, "Wait, America," he said happily, "I can't find my brother either, did you maybe want to look for them together?"

America blinked at him for a moment, before a cheerful smile broke out on his face, "Yeah," he laughed, throwing an arm over Italy's shoulder, "We can form an awesome England-Romano-tracking team!"

Italy giggled, nodded and trotted along beside the now babbling American, glad that he now had something to occupy his previously empty (ever since he had decided that Romano wasn't, in fact, going to join him for lunch, and he had found out that most other nations were already busy with their own) afternoon with.

"Why do you want to find England anyway?" Italy asked curiously, interrupting whatever America was saying.

"Oh, I wanna find out why he's been acting so weird lately, y'know, ducking out of meetings, ditching me to do other stuff, walking around with a goofy fucking grin on his face all the time."

Italy frowned a little in thought, "Romano's been acting that way lately too, it's-"

They both stopped walking, their eyes wide.

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

Romano chewed on his lip in a mostly vain attempt to keep the noises of their lovemaking to a minimum, not that it mattered, what with how much noise he was failing to contain.

"You're going to get us caught." His partner breathed out against the sweaty skin of his neck.

"And what if I said I don't care anymore?" he replied, tugging them closer together with the legs he had wrapped around the other's waist and making him groan wantonly into Romano's shoulder.

His partner regained himself quickly, though, smirking into one of the love-marks he'd left earlier, "Then I'd tell you to scream." he said.

And Romano did.

* * *

After a moment, America spoke, "You don't think...?"

Italy just stared into space for a moment, "They..." he tried, but couldn't seem to finish.

America shook his head, grimacing, "No, they've hardly ever spoken two words to each other!"

Italy frowned, "No, that's not true," he said, turning to America, with a strangely business-like expression on his face, "They were speaking at the last EU meeting, I saw them."

"So, you think they're..."

Italy's face held the exact expression of a man who has no idea how to feel about the information presented to him, and he opened his mouth to reply before seeming to re-think his choice and closing his mouth.

America shook his head, "No, we can't just jump to conclusions, we need proof."

Italy nodded, "Yes! We'll find them, and we'll tell them that we know their secret, at which point they'll be forced to admit it, and then I can give him a piece of my mind-"

"Italy?"

Italy hummed in acknowledgement, looking up at America's sceptical expression with wide eyes.

"Let's just find them first."

* * *

_Meanwhile... _

"Per favore, per favore, io sono così vicino, Inghilterra, per favore!"

England groaned, "Yes, that's it, say my name, I want to hear you say my name as you come."

"Inghilterra!"

England stopped, making his partner whimper, as he wrapped his fingers tightly around him, too tightly, so tightly he couldn't come even if he tried.

"Again." He crooned.

"Inghilterra!"

"No, no, in English."

"Inghilterra, per favore!"

"Come on, I know you can do it."

"England, you bastard, please!"

* * *

"Where do you think they'd be?" America asked, frowning and rubbing his chin in thought.

"It depends what they're doing," Italy replied, "Something romantic, or something..."

They both shuddered at that thought, neither of them willing to complete that sentence. It wasn't so much the act itself that repulsed them, more the two nations that were supposedly doing it. No one wants to think about their brother (or father-figure-brother-friend-we-banged-once-ages-ago-it-was-weird in America's case) having sex, well, other than Belarus, but no one spoke about that... or... wanted to speakabout that.

At some point in their mostly aimless wandering they ended up on the fourth floor, having already checked the go-to post-meeting-sex broom-closets, and decided to start checking the floors randomly after that.

"Did you hear that?" America asked suddenly, stopping in his tracks.

"I think so." Italy replied, straining to hear the source of the noise.

* * *

_Meanwhile... _

Romano turned abruptly as they left the bathroom, tugging the other by his belt-loops into a nervous and chaste kiss. When he broke it, he looked away from his partner's eyes, and muttered a quiet, "I miss you."

"I'm here now." And even though he couldn't see it, he could hear the gentle smile in his partner's voice, "You don't have to."

Romano's lips twitched up a little, he nodded, leaning in to kiss him again.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long before they were interrupted with a loud yell of, "Holy shit! It's we were right! Oh my god!"

And Romano's heart sank like a stone.

* * *

"It's weird though, right?" America asked with a grimace.

"Will you just let them be happy for a while?" Canada replied irritably, glancing from America to the other side of the room, where England sat with Romano on his lap, the two with their faces close together, talking quietly between themselves in hushed whispers. Romano looked as if he were about to be sick, and honestly, England didn't look all that much better, chewing on his lip as if it had personally offended him. Inwardly, Canada cursed his brother for being such a nosey asshole who couldn't keep a secret if you paid him... well, he probably would if you paid him, the sell-out.

America made a non-committal noise, "But it's weird."

Canada growled in exasperation, "Who cares if it's weird? They're happy, just let them be happy!" He shook his head, "You didn't need to go ratting them out either, it's clear they didn't want it to be public yet."

"You can't fuck in a public bathroom and care that much about keeping it a secret."

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

England smiled softly at Romano, running this thumb gently over his cheek, "Are you alright, Love?" he asked, and Romano bit his lip thoughtfully.

"You know when I said I didn't care?" he asked nervously in reply, England nodded, "I care."

England laughed softly, lifting Romano's chin so he could look him in the eyes, "We'll be alright. Don't worry about it."

Romano scowled, "I don't like how they're all staring at us, they're judging us, I can feel it."

"Since when have you cared this much about others' opinions?" England smiled.

"I always have, I just act like I don't," Romano replied testily, "And don't try and pretend you're not the same, because you are."

England pressed a light and brief kiss to Romano's lips, leaning to the side so he could still see him when Romano turned his head away the moment it broke, "Darling, they will come around, trust me."

Romano's face softened and he turned back with a small smile, "At least we don't have to fake diplomatic visits anymore."

England kissed him softly, a matching smile appearing on his own face, "You could come back to my place after this?"

Romano scoffed, "In the rain? No," he joked, "You should come to my place, it's nicer."

"Narcissistic Twat." England grumbled, making Romano chuckle again.

"I'm a fucking dreamboat, look at me." He gestured at himself, making England raise an eyebrow.

"Like I said." He replied, a smirk working its way onto his lips.

Romano bit his lip, his hands resting on England's shoulders and brushing softly over the hairs at the base of his neck, "We should stay in my place in Sicily," he said, "There's a nice beach, and it's far away from the rest of this stupid continent."

England nodded a little, a small laugh escaping through his nose, "Far away sounds perfect."


End file.
